


Simmer

by OpheliaGlorfindal



Series: For Those We Have Lost... [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Almost Kiss, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Feels, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Patch 3.0: Heavensward Spoilers, Patch 3.2: The Gears of Change, Patch 3.2: The Gears of Change Spoilers, Post A Spectacle for the Ages, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24792238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaGlorfindal/pseuds/OpheliaGlorfindal
Summary: “Seraphina?” he asks, unable to hide the tones of caution in his voice. “What are you doing here?”She stares at the floor for a few moments, pulling the shawl tighter around her as she hunches her shoulders.“I-I can’t sleep,” she mumbles, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I saw your light.”After an argument, Thancred finally realises a few things about himself and his feelings for the Warrior of Light.
Relationships: Warrior of Light & Thancred Waters, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: For Those We Have Lost... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792330
Kudos: 23





	Simmer

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the melee so there's spoilers for the Patch 3.2 MSQ. Don't say I didn't warn you...
> 
> Be prepared for feels...

Thancred wanders through the Fortemps’ manor, looking for Seraphina. He hasn’t had a chance to congratulate her on her victory in the melee. She’d been surrounded by a throng of people at the Gates of Faith who had all been garnering for her attention. She’d made her excuses, promising to speak to many of them at the soiree the next day, before heading back to the Fortemps manor. She hadn’t even glanced at him before she left.

He meanders down the long corridors and into the library, a favourite room of hers. He can see why, the tranquil atmosphere is ideal for quiet contemplation and reflection on the day’s events. He runs his fingers over the dusty spines of the books as he walks through the shelves, ignoring the aching in his shoulders from fighting the cyclops earlier. He finds her sitting on the window sill, a book lying open on her lap forgotten as she stares out of the huge window, watching the skies darkening over Ishgard. He watches her for a few moments, admiring the way the light of the setting sun bounces off her blonde hair like a halo.

“There you are, angel,” he says, taking a step towards her. The floorboard creaks, making Seraphina jump. She blinks as she tears her gaze away from the window and looks at him. He frowns. She looks tired and judging from the bags under her eyes, it has nothing to do with taking part in the melee earlier. 

“Thancred, what are you doing here?” she asks, there’s a coldness to her voice that causes him to recoil slightly. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he replies, stuttering over his words, “I was just going to congratulate you on your victory in the melee. But I can see that I disturbed you and —”

“If you’re going to leave, then just leave.”

Thancred clenches his jaw, feeling a stab of annoyance. What had he done for her to treat him like this? He watches her, he can see the anger in her eyes burning away like a bonfire. He stands his ground and folds his arms.

“Seraphina,” he replies, trying his best to keep his voice calm, “What’s amiss?”

She sits up a little straighter and glares at him. Thancred swallows. Gods help him. He wonders if this is what she looks like when she goes up against a primal and wonders how any of them don’t just wither away in fear. Her hands are curling and uncurling into fists. He can feel her anger radiating off of her, simmering quietly below the surface.

“You — what did you think you were doing? Taking on that cyclops alone?”

His eyes widen as he looks at her and cocks his head to one side.

“I was — I was doing my job,” he tells her, his voice firm, “You know, stopping people from getting trampled to death.”

She rolls her eyes at him and huffs. Honestly, Thancred can’t understand why she is angry at him. He was just doing his job — protecting others whilst she was occupied. She had asked him to attend the melee. She was the one who was worried that something might go horribly wrong.

“Without help?” she asks him, she raises an eyebrow, “You could’ve been hurt; you could’ve been killed, Thancred.”

He scoffs at her words. It was just a cyclops. He has taken on far worse foes in his time and managed to come out the other side. Besides, wasn’t it better to risk one life instead of the hundreds that had attended the melee?

“What could I have done? Hundreds would’ve gotten hurt, including the leaders of Eorzea. Or does that not matter to you?”

Seraphina’s blue eyes flare as she grips the cover of the book. For a second, Thancred thinks that she’s going to throw it at him. He couldn’t blame her if she did. She is the Warrior of Light after all. The one person who is expected to go head first into danger in the name of protecting all of Eorzea. She sighs, looks away from him and then takes a deep breath.

“Of course it does,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly as she closes the book and puts it to one side, “How could it not? But that doesn’t mean that you’re dispensable, Thancred.”

Thancred takes a step back as she stands up. He flexes his hands as his eyes dart around the room. 

“But I was fine, it was all fine. Seraphina, I don’t understand what —”

“—Of course you don’t, because I doubt you’ve thought of anyone but yourself for a long time,” she says, pinching the top of her nose, “But you scared me today, Thancred. I thought — I thought I’d lost you again.”

Thancred’s body tenses. His heart plummets somewhere in the region of his abdomen. She has been more guarded, more aloof than the woman he remembered from before the banquet in Ul'dah. Maybe he isn’t the only one who had been hardened by his experiences.

“Seraphina, I —”

“You don’t understand,” she continues, her voice sounds brittle, “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t — I can’t lose you.”

His voice falters as she looks up at him, hugging her arms to her chest. Her eyes are wide and there’s an aching sadness in them, a lonely pit of emptiness. He can feel his heart breaking as he looks at her. He curses himself — he hadn’t realised how difficult it must’ve been for her to lose most of her friends in one fell swoop; to start again and then lose the one friend who had taken her in. He’d been too preoccupied by his own hurts, by his grief for Minfilia to notice that she’s still hurting too. Gods, he was such a fool, a selfish short-sighted fool. 

Thancred swallows, his mouth dry. He’s out of words, which is such a rarity for him, so he just stands there and feels foolish. Seraphina takes a few deep breaths and blinks, her eyes fixing on a point that is somewhere over his shoulder. 

“I know you think you don’t matter to yourself, Thancred,” she says, finally meeting his eye again, “But you _do_ matter to some of us, so you need to look after yourself and stop being reckless.” 

Thancred folds his arms, his heart feels as though it’s about to burst. He’s at a loss for words still, the things he wants to say to her sound pathetic in his own mind. He doubts she would appreciate them anyway, not in the mood she is in. She’s angry and it’s the kind of anger he knows all too well. The kind that only comes from grief and the only way to relieve her of it is to let her vent. 

And so he stands there, feeling utterly useless. His arms are hanging loosely by his side, his shoulders are aching and the woman he...cares about is staring at him in a mixture of despondency and tired resignation. He fights the urge to go to her, to wrap his arms around her and hold her close; to tell her that he wasn’t going to go anywhere and promise to stay by her side. But they’re promises he knew that he couldn’t keep, after all duty would always get in the way.

Seraphina sighs and mutters something about being busy. Thancred watches as she leaves, her footsteps echoing in his ears along with all of the things she had said to him. He heaves his shoulders and rubs his forehead with a hand and lets out a breath.

He is a fool. A fool and a selfish man. The idea that Seraphina could want him, would want to be with him is laughable. She's too good for him, too good for anyone if he was being completely honest with himself. The guilt niggles him in the back of his head, since his dip in the lifestream, he’d been so focused on surviving in the moment that he had forgotten what it was like to think before acting. 

By the Twelve, what is wrong with him? 

Thancred strides out of the library, all the way back down the landing and up a set of stairs to the east-wing of the house towards the guest bedrooms. He almost reaches the door of Seraphina’s bed chamber, when Alphinaud steps out of his room.

“Thancred, pray can you spare a minute of your time?” he says, his smile warm, “I wish to discuss your plans to track the Warriors of Darkness.”

Thancred’s eyes flicker from the young elezen’s face to Seraphina’s door and back again. He frowns and suppresses a sigh, marvelling at Alphinaud's poor timing.The boy's, well, young man's eyes, follow his gaze to her door.

"If this is an inopportune time —"

"—No, not at all," Thancred replies, rubbing his mouth as he stares over the elezen's head,"I was just going to — I was just, uh —"

Alphinaud frowns and gives him a curious look. Thancred swears to himself. Didn't he used to be a bard? He used to have a talent for words, for using them to deceive and invite trust. So why was it so difficult for him to come up with an excuse. 

"Mayhaps, I have picked a bad time," the white haired elezen remarks, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

Thancred hovers for a few seconds. He should be brave. He should apologise to Seraphina, explain that he did not mean to upset her. But that means laying himself bare. It means taking out his feelings and exposing them to her. But then, she's still upset with him and maybe his apology will fall on deaf ears.

"Uh, no no," he says, finally tearing his eyes away from her door; the distance between it and him feels like malms. "I've got time. What do you need to know?"

Alphinaud casts a quick glance up and down the corridor for anyone who would over-hear them.

"I've received reports of their presence in the Twelveswood," he explains, gesturing for Thancred to follow him into his room.

Thancred hesitates. His shoulders sag as he steps over the threshold, hanging his head. It’s not the brave thing to do. But maybe it will provide a welcome distraction from his own thoughts and the guilt that has settled in the pit of his stomach. His apology to Seraphina will have to wait, until he can gather enough courage to face her, until her anger has abated.

***

Thancred wakes up with a start, beads of sweat pasting strands of his hair to his forehead as he sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose. The sound of Lahabrea’s laughter is still ringing in his ears as he sits up and looks down at the rumpled sheets. He turns on the light and slides out of bed before padding across the floor to the sink in the en suite bathroom. 

He sighs as he runs the tap. Was he cursed? During his time in the Dravanian Forelands, he barely slept for fear of becoming prey to the beasts that live there, his senses had always been on the alert for any sign of danger. Now that he had a warm bed to sleep in, he was plagued with reliving his time as Lahabrea’s meat-sack — forced to remember things that he would rather forget. Thancred splashes the cold water onto his face, letting the coolness of the water on his skin ground him.

He pricks his ears as he hears a floorboard creak and the sound of someone lightly knocking on his door. He turns off the water, his curiosity getting the better of him as he walks towards his bedroom door and opens it a crack. Seraphina is standing in the corridor, looking ghostly in her white night dress and blue shawl that is draped around her shoulders.

“Seraphina?” he asks, unable to hide the tones of caution in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

She stares at the floor for a few moments, pulling the shawl tighter around her as she hunches her shoulders.

“I-I can’t sleep,” she mumbles, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I saw your light.”

Thancred nods as he opens his bedchamber door wider to let her in. He rubs the back of his neck as she steps into his room, hoping she doesn’t see twisted sheets on his bed. He watches in silence as she takes in her surroundings, her eyes from the dresser in the corner to the oak desk in the window. It’s uncharacteristically tidy for him, after all he doesn’t have many belongings these days. 

“Have you been up late working again?” she asks him, eyeing the state of his bedsheets before glancing up at him. “I haven’t disturbed you have I? I can just go —”

“Sleep has evaded both of us tonight, it seems,” he tells her, hoping that she doesn’t push him for an explanation as to the real reason why he’s awake.

Her mouth twitches as she tucks her hair behind her ear. His stomach twists as he recalls the last time she had come to his bedchamber back in the Rising Stones. His skin prickles. The memory of their tryst felt all too real, though it felt like a whole lifetime ago. He watches her, waiting for her to explain why she had the need to come to him.

They stand in silence for a few moments; it’s almost unbearable. Thancred licks his lips and unsticks his throat. But she breaks it first.

“Look, Thancred, I’m sorry about earlier,” she says, fiddling with the hem of her shawl, “I was — it was unfair of me. You were trying to protect us and I was harsh.”

Thancred gives her a small lopsided grin. 

“It’s quite all right,” he says, “I’m sorry my actions upset you. It wasn’t my intention.”

Her shoulders relax slightly and she gives him a wan smile. There’s still a weary look in her eyes. She takes a deep breath. Thancred flexes his hands and sits down on the bed, watching as she paces the length of his room.

“I know,” she replies, “It’s just — I thought I had lost you and I mourned you. To get you back was a miracle and then with Minfilia…I let my fear get the best of me.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, giving him a skittish look at the mention of the antecedent’s name. He feels a familiar stab of pain at the sound of her name being spoken out loud. He swallows, trying to suppress his grief, his guilt and his regret as he watches her carefully.

“Seraphina,” he says, his voice gentle, “It’s okay, you’re not the first person to let their emotions get the better of them.”

She stops pacing and looks at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Is it?” she asks, “Everyone looks to me, I don’t get to make mistakes.”

Thancred blinks. Sometimes it is easy to forget that despite all of her grand titles and deeds, she is just a person. He knows he is guilty of it himself. She’s pacing again, flexing her hands as she becomes increasingly agitated.

“You know that’s not true —”

She looks at him and scoffs. The pace of her steps increase as she continues to walk back and forth across his room. 

“Isn’t it?” she says, “Because if I make a mistake, people die and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of people dying because of me. Of people sacrificing themselves in my name —”

“—Seraphina —”

Back and forth. Back and forth. Her pacing is starting to aggravate him slightly. She’s tugging at her hair with her hand now. Her blue shawl is slipping off her shoulders.

“—It’s my fault,” she continues, “Haurchefant and Ysale died protecting me — _because_ of me. Even Minfilia... “

Thancred’s body tenses. He looks at her, stricken.

“Seraphina, Minfillia — that isn’t your fault.”

She freezes and looks at him. Her eyes are shining with tears, she’s wringing her hands. She looks so small, so vulnerable. 

“Isn’t it?” she says bitterly, “I failed her, Thancred. I should’ve stopped her, I should have convinced her to come with me. I know you blame me.”

Thancred shoots her a stricken look. He feels as though someone has just punched him in the stomach. 

“You truly believe that?” 

Seraphina sniffles and nods. Thancred feels his heart swell and burst in his chest. She’s still pacing up and down his room furiously, tugging at her hair. She looks as though she is about to break, about to let out the emotions she has spent the last few weeks holding back.

“Seraphina, sit down” he says, his voice calm and even. He pats the space next to him on the bed. “ _Sit down._ Take a breath.”

She stops pacing and bites her lips. She has a hollow look in her eyes. The look of someone who has lost too much. Her arms are crossed across her stomach as though she has just been stabbed there. He stands up and takes a step towards her, carefully reaching out to draw her hands away from her. He steps backwards towards the bed and pulls her gently with him as he sits on the mattress. She sits next to him, holding his hands loosely in hers. 

“Look, I don’t blame you,” he says, meeting her blue eyes with his mis-matched ones, “I-I think I always knew that Minfilia would answer Hydalyn’s call, you did what you could.”

“But, I could have done more, I could’ve —”

“—You aren’t responsible for other people’s choices. You taught me that.”

He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. But it falls flat. She’s rocking her torso backwards and forwards slightly, squeezing her hands. She takes a few shuddering breaths before she crumbles in on herself, hugging her arms tightly to her chest. Thancred watches as she starts to cry, her sobs wracking through her body. He shifts closer to her, wraps his arms around her and pulls her in close. He strokes her back as she cries, hoping that the gesture conveys a sense of safety. She’s warm against him, her hands are balled into fists. His shirt is damp from her tears, but he doesn’t particularly care. She needs him. She just needs him to be there, to listen and to hold her. After a few moments, her crying abates and she stops trembling. She takes a few shaky breaths. She glances up at him as she pulls away a little, tears still running down her cheeks.

He cups her face with his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. Seraphina closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. His skin tingles and his heart is beating wildly as he realises how close he is sitting to her. He breathes in the citrus scent of her soap, letting it cloud up his mind. She opens her blue eyes and he sees his own pain, his own loneliness reflected in them. She gives him a soft smile as she reaches up the brush strands of his hair out of his face. He can’t help but notice that her lips are rolanberry red and he wonders if they’re as soft as they look. It will only take a moment to find out. A heart beat. He leans in closer, he can feel the heat of her breath as she exhales.

No. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

Thancred pulls away, recoiling in on himself. Shame washes over him. Seraphina is vulnerable, she's hurting. To kiss her now will only add to the confusion and the messiness that is their...friendship. He can’t act on his feelings. Not yet anyway. Not when she has just unburdened herself to him, let go of all of the hurt she has been bottling up. Not when he has no idea of her heart. It feels too much like a betrayal of trust.

He rubs his mouth and looks away, unable to bear the bewilderment and dismay in her eyes. His heart aches, the yearning he feels threatens to consume him and he can’t stand it. She heaves her shoulders as she lets out a breath. 

“I-I should go,” she says, licking her lips quickly, “I shouldn’t have — I didn’t mean to —”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

The bed creaks as she stands up and walks over to the door. Thancred sits still as he watches her, pushing down the urge to stop her, to beg her to stay. But he’s too proud. Too reluctant to put that kind of pressure on her when she’s in such a fragile state. She gives him a warm smile as she reaches for the door handle.

“Thank you,” she says simply, her smile not meeting her eyes, “For being there — for everything.”

“Any time, angel, I mean that.”

“And I meant what I said earlier,” she replies, “About you mattering to other people — to me. Anyway, I’ll leave you to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, angel.”

Seraphina pulls her shawl onto her shoulders as she opens the door and steps into the corridor. Thancred leans back onto his bed as it closes with a click. He stares up at the ceiling, her words echoing in his head as his mind runs in circles. He matters to her. What did she mean by that? Was she just expressing genuine concern for a friend, or was there something more? He isn’t sure. But he does know that he feels something different. For the first time in moons, he feels something positive. He feels hope.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, yeah...this was a bit of catharsis for me as it's been a particularly hard week. ~~Nothing like vicariously projecting your issues onto fictional characters~~
> 
> Yeah, I head cannon that my WoL has some serious abandonment issues what with having lost most of the Scions and then Haurchefant and Ysayle and all. Also, my WoL has issues with expressing anger with people so she just goes really quiet in an 'I'm not mad, just disappointed in you kind of way'.
> 
> Also, I'm still bitter that I didn't get to run off and fight the cyclops with Thancred. That whole duty was still fun though. Can't believe he one-punched it. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. :) Constructive comments and criticism are welcome. Stay safe!


End file.
